


Don't Know Much

by ossapher



Series: the one where their hearts are full of rainbows [2]
Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 9 parts sweet 1 part sad, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming of Age, Fluff, Gay Trio, Gen, Washingdad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:53:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ossapher/pseuds/ossapher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking the SAT is a rite of passage for every college-bound high schooler in America. </p><p>Some people handle this better than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Know Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CherryPoison1889](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryPoison1889/gifts).



> Both the title and the last line of this fic were inspired by [this wonderful old Sam Cooke song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4GLAKEjU4w).
> 
> Many thanks to [cherrypoison1889](http://cherrypoison1889.tumblr.com/) for being both patient with me and willing to let me run completely away from the prompt <3

Alex has erasers stacked four deep on the table and is sharpening his pencils with more exacting attention than Bernini brought to bear on _The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa_ , but even without those rather obvious cues, **SAT** has been written and circled on today’s date on the fridge calendar for months now. George is serenely confident that Alex is going to score somewhere up in the stratosphere, but he also knows that his saying so would not be appreciated at this time. He cracks some eggs and cooks a spinach omelet: some energy, some staying power, some vitamins, nothing that will unsettle Alex’s delicate stomach.

George slides the omelet on the table under Alex’s nose, and is rewarded a moment later when his son makes a pleased noise and begins to inhale his breakfast.

“Easy, easy!” George chuckles. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“I’m hungry!” Alex says, indignant. “And we have to pick up Lafayette, did you remember—”

“I remember,” George says. “And like I said, we’ve got plenty of time.”

After that, Alex takes a slightly more sedate pace, and George packs a couple granola bars and an apple in his bag to snack on during breaks, if he gets the chance. Then Alex stuffs on his shoes and heads for the door, bouncing nervously as George fetches the car keys. He babbles in the passenger seat all the way to Lafayette’s house, and George unobtrusively turns on the radio at a low volume in the hopes that it will calm him down. He doesn’t want to comment too much on Alex’s obvious case of nerves, certain that doing so would only exacerbate them. And Alex _can_ perform well under pressure—the massive debate trophy in his bedroom bears testament to that—but sometimes Alex forgets that, and well… Alex’s dream school is Princeton. He needs to do well today.

When Lafayette clambers in he starts peppering Alex with questions (“how do I use FOIL if there are more than two things I want to multiply?”), and at first George is concerned that this will only increase the pressure. But instead, Alex calmly begins to explain (“FOIL is just a specific trick for doing the distributive property, so everybody in the first polynomial gets multiplied by everybody in the second polynomial…”) as Lafayette nods along, and George’s heart settles a little. Alex is always at his best when he’s got something to do, or somebody to help. He feels a rush of tenderness for the boy he fought so hard to help, brilliant and caring and kind and almost ready to stand on his own—and another for Lafayette, who was Alex’s staunchest ally almost from the very beginning, who’s grown so much and helped Alex grow.

 _Easy George_ , he tells himself sternly. _You’re driving them to the SAT, not writing their eulogies_.

Lafayette catches George’s eye in the rear-view mirror, a flash of mischief (“... and then once you have all your terms you just gather all the like ones together…” Alex continues) in his smile, and then turns back to Alex and asks, “But on this practice question, I…”

George furrows his brow and confronts the perennial question with Lafayette: does he actually intend the effects of his actions, or is he just... acting?

Either way, Alex keeps up a steady stream of information, and gets a distraction from his anxieties and a mini math refresher and a welcome reassurance that he’s got this in the bag, all in one stroke. George gives Lafayette a particularly warm clap on the shoulder when they reach the high school parking lot, just in case the move was intentional, and Lafayette takes it as prelude to a hug.

“Come _on_ , let’s get inside!” Alex says, taking Lafayette by the hand and dragging him away from George. “John’s already here!”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Lafayette says, throwing a quick “wish me luck” back over his shoulder at George as Alex hauls him towards the building.

“Good luck! You’ll both do wonderfully, I’m sure!” George shouts at their backs.

“Thanks, Dad!” Alex yells, with a quick glance back and a little wave, and soon they both disappear in the maze of parked cars.

***

Most of those cars are still there four hours later, as George circles the parking lot looking for the particular exhausted teenagers for which he is responsible. There a lot of exhausted teenagers to choose from; some of them aren’t remembering to look both ways before crossing the street. He drives slow and does a lot of precautionary braking.  

He spots Lafayette’s gangling form and bright red backpack by the bicycle rack, John and Alex perching nearby. John seems to be trying to massage Alex’s hand, and Alex is—yes, Alex is stubbornly insisting he doesn’t need help; George knows _that_ face all too well. He pulls up to the curb, and all three boys clamber into the car and flop into their seats.

“So…” George says, turning around. He was going to say “how did it go” but Lafayette looks like he’s seeing inside the Matrix and John is still assiduously kneading the base of Alex’s thumb and refusing to acknowledge the wider world. “Who wants ice cream?”

***

Alex breaks the implicit compact halfway through his mint brownie sundae. “So for the math section, question thirteen—”

“Please, God, no—” John moans, his head drooping to the formica tabletop.

“Oh, the one with the four little circles and the—” Lafayette says.

“—yeah, inside the rectangle, that was literally just a subtraction problem, right?”

“... maybe we aren’t thinking of the same problem.” Lafayette looks worried. Alex starts sketching out a figure on a napkin, the razor-sharp point of his pencil tearing the paper several times before Lafayette procures a pen. Alex, George notices, has a smear of pencil lead across his forehead, and George’s immediate impulse is to lick his thumb and wipe it away. But the boys have crammed into one side of the booth, leaving George alone on the other, and it would be quite the reach, and something John and Lafayette might tease him for. They’re good-natured, and God knows Alex can dish out one-liners with the best of them. But he’s more sensitive than he lets on. George doesn’t want to embarrass him.

John, having demolished his scoop of butter pecan in record time, takes a delicate nibble of the side of the waffle cone. He closes his eyes as Alex and Lafayette continue to squabble, then turns to Washington and says, “Please, talk to me about anything other than SATs right now.”

George is a little startled to be directly addressed; not that he would ever discourage such a thing, but Laurens doesn’t seem to have ever forgotten that George carried him out of a riot the first time they met, and it’s made him a little shy. That he’s opening up, even a little bit, is delightful and worthy of encouragement. So George takes him through Sweet Lips’ greatest hits, and soon John is in stitches over the story of Why We Never Hang Clothes Out To Dry Anymore.

Eventually, Alex and Lafayette determine that they were talking about the same problem, and even got the same answer on it via entirely different methods. By this point John is sharing a story with George about his sister’s cat and its panicked reaction the first time it met his pet turtle, and Alex and Lafayette start asking questions and embellishing details and (in Alex’s case) introducing a massive tangent about Ancient Egyptian mythology and soon they’re all arguing about which pantheon is the coolest and John is reciting parts of the Odyssey from memory to try and prove his point and George—

Nostalgia, sudden and strong, twists and pulls in George’s chest. This moment is so small it’s already gone. And that one’s gone, and that one. These boys are going to go away to college and finish growing up far away from him, and he won’t get to _see_ _—_

It’s a selfish hope, he knows, to keep so much light near himself. Though he’s fostered it—literally, fostered and adopted it, in Alex’s case—it doesn’t belong to him. Doesn’t belong to anyone but the boys themselves, to be shed as they choose on the world; he can only hope that the world cherishes them as much as he does.

A loud guffaw from John distracts him; Lafayette has Alex in something almost, but not entirely, unlike a headlock, and is scrubbing with his thumb at the smudge of pencil lead George noticed earlier. Alex glares, more at John then Lafayette. But when John, still laughing helplessly, slaps the table and accidentally sends his spoon flying, Alex’s resentful mask cracks, and he collapses in a torrent of giggles.

As George watches, the clinging nostalgia in his chest warms and blooms into something more generous and pure. Maybe they’ll be gone one day—but they’re here now. And when they’re out there shining in the world, well—what a wonderful world it will be.

 


End file.
